Blackhumouristpress's Blog

April 17, 2020

Decide

Filed under: Detroit,humor,humour,Los Angeles,Short Story,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 1:31 am
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 We had a gig the following night at Corktown Tap.  We sat out back
until it was time to go up and play.  The old Tiger’s stadium sits on
the other side of the wall like a cemetery.  Out in the distance like
a mirage is the Motor City Casino.  The lights dance around the
building like Las Vegas but it’s the only hotel on the strip.  The
gig was ok over all.  Not mobbed but a good showing.  Lowe went with
Lynn and I to Greektown to get something to eat.  He is a big time
stoner who is really an intelligent guy.  He analyzes everything and
discusses it like a philosopher.  Lynn giggles at the stuff he says
but he means it.
“How long should a person want to live?  Have you ever thought of
that?  You look at James Dean or Jimi Hendrix.  They went out before
they got old and fat.  People go to see bands they’ve loved their
whole lives and the fucking guys in the band are older than your
parents.  They look fat and sloppy like Jerry Garcia.  You get a guy
like Marlon Brando.  He was a good looking, fit guy in the 50’s and
most of the 60’s.  He buys and island and then promptly eats it.  Who
gets that fucking big?  We can go in the casino right now and ever fat
fuck with everything under the sun is wrong with them.  They got a
cigarette dangling from their lips while their eyes are glued to the
slot machine.  They’re gonna strike it rich, right?  They’ll finally
be happy, right?  They’ll go back to their shit hole house somewhere
between here and 8Mile…  So a 100 years ago, people worked fucking
hard until they died at 45.  We didn’t have so many people because
people worked hard and then got the fuck out of the way.  You wanna
live long enough to wind up in a nursing home?  Shit in your pants and
have some Filipino chick flip you ever few hours so your skin doesn’t
rot.  You just sit there and watch television and the next day you
can’t even remember what you watched but it’s good you did because it
gets your mind off the fact that maybe you shouldn’t be here.  Maybe
you been here too long.  We need a really good bomb or a really good
virus to clear this place out.  Weed out the weak.  Kind of like a
healthy brush fire so that things grow the way they should after…
Fuck.”
The waiter came up to us three times and Lowe hadn’t looked at the
menu yet.  He just kept talking.  The third time, he snapped at the
waiter to bring him a bold red wine from Greece.  Lowe moved on to the
thought of the act of deciding.  This thought came to me before too.
“You stop to think about this…  Someone pushes you to decide
something and life could go really well or really fucked up.  When
you’re a kid, you decide to do this or that and if your parents don’t
agree, you catch a smack…  I take that back…  In the old days you
would have caught a smack and today they have someone with a bachelor
of science try to understand and draw out of your kid why they did
something…  It’s all bullshit, right?  So you become an adult and then
suddenly you don’t have anyone to really stop you from bad decisions.
You buy shit you don’t need, you hook up with nasty tramps, you drink
too much and take shitty jobs.  One day you think you have really
found the one, right?  So you ask that person to marry you.
Everything is great for ten minutes and then you suddenly grow apart.
You find another person that really gets you and so you leave that
person for the new person and then things head towards the gulf coast.
You then have to decide- is this shit right for my life?  Do I want to
spread my seed like a Jamaican and split my check five different ways
because I made poor selections, options, choices… Ready? Yes, poor
fucking decisions.  Here’s one for you.  My mom had a boyfriend when I
was thirteen.  She moved him in and he promptly told me that
everything I liked and was into sucked.  I hated the fucker.  At 16, I
decided that I could no longer go on.  I held a proverbial gun to my
mom’s head and told her to decide on keeping the fuck or I was moving
out. She decided to keep him- I moved out.  I went to live with poor
people and then my family in Detroit told me to leave beautiful
Southern California for Detroit.  I had to make a choice.  I chose
Detroit.  I’ve been here ever since.  What if I had stayed?  Would I
have remained in LA?  What would I have done?  Who might I have
married?  Big fucking fork in the road.  The idea of deciding is a big
fucking deal and we take it lightly…  If this shit doesn’t work out,
I’ll decide to do something else, right?  I mean…  I’ve got all the
time in the world.  I’m probably going to live forever, right?”
The waiter returned.  Lowe slammed the menu down and ordered the
waiter to bring him a gyros with extra sauce and extra onions.  As the
waiter was getting ready to walk away, he asked him a question.
“Hey buddy…  Were you born in Greece?”
“Yes…”
“Why did you come here?”
“I thought it might be better…”
“Detroit?!”
“Sure… Why?”
“Have you ever thought of what your life might be like if you had
decided to stay in Greece?”
“Sure…  I would have had to marry a woman named Toula and I would
have had too many kids and probably retire at 50.  I would never have
met you nice people tonight…  I’m glad I came here.”
Lowe slapped his back and we moved on.  We talked about soccer since
he was fixated by Italian soccer.  We dropped him off and got home and
crashed.  The ride back to Chicago took forever.  We stopped at
wineries and stopped at the beach near New Buffalo.  We both made the
decision to go slow so that we would have more time together.

May 22, 2019

Your Expiration Date

Picture that you knew the day you would die. Think of it as being born with an expiration date. The young ones who pass as young children would get smothered during their short time on earth and those who knew they wouldn’t go on until age 90, would live reckless. Nobody would have to ponder how much time they had left. They would know.

Spencer married at an early age and had children early because his parents were told that he would die 2-8-91. He had two small children and had even discussed with his single brother that he would eventually marry his hot wife and raise Spencer’s children as his own. They had a party for Spencer back in 1991 when he was 24 years old a few days before his expiration date and then nothing happened. There was no car accident, no heart attack, no random gun shooting or nothing. He reasoned that maybe something got screwed up on the computer. These things do happen, you know.

Spencer went on for years thinking that everyday was probably the last and then one day when he was drunk and reading Sartre. Spencer’s wife had taken off with the kid’s basketball coach and he was alone. Spencer started to think that there was some sort of a mistake and the date of his death was probably going to be 8-2-19 and that all the numbers had been scrambled. Spencer was pretty sure that the date is coming and with it being late May of 2019, he had to get some things done and cleared up before cashing in or out.

All those years of anguish and anticipation of the inevitable really prevented him from really living. Spencer bought a motorcycle, joined Internet dating sites, he travelled the country watching sporting events and talking to random people in bars about really deep shit. He got on Facebook and found that girl that he secretly pined for in high school. She looked like the lead singer from the band Bow Wow Wow and liked surfer-looking guys with Van Shoes and OP shorts. They had long stringy hair and liked to skateboard and surf. Her name was Melissa and she was Filipino and she was so pretty that it was hard for a pimple faced Spencer to ever get the nerve up to approach her, to talk to her, to ask her to go to the movies, to be his girlfriend. Spencer had gotten himself in the best shape of his life even though he was pretty sure that the end was coming in August. He reasoned that the grass would be cut and the house immaculate on the day the house gets repossessed.   Spencer hired a detective to find out as much as he could about this girl that was trapped in his head from back in 1985. Here is what he found out- she married three times, had six children, is a big time gambler in Las Vegas and lives in an apartment in North Hollywood, California.

Spencer got off of his motorcycle clad in leather like Mad Max, holding a bouquet of roses. Sitting in a lawn chair of the kidney shaped pool that belonged to the apartment building was Melissa. She was not the thin thing that he remembered but Spencer didn’t see that. He saw the beautiful face that he fell in love with as a teenager. She was looking at her I-Phone with a furrowed brow when Spencer’s shadow cast over her. She looked up and could not make out the figure through the sun. Spencer presented the flowers and got down on one knee like a knight with his helmet on his knee.

“Time is short but there is still time and for my whole life, I’ve wanted to be with you… I won’t leave here today without you.”

Melissa gathered up a few small things and got on the back of the motorcycle. There were a few young Mexican children playing in the parking lot. Melissa tossed the bouquet to a group of young girls and they drove off towards Las Vegas listening to a song by Bow Wow Wow called Do You Wanna Hold Me.

Do you wanna hold me, hold me tight
And I cry all night, there’s only one solution to this life
There’s someone there to tell me what it’s like
Do you wanna hold me, oh yeah, do you wanna hold me, oh yeah
Do you wanna hold me, hold me there.

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